Friday, January 18, 2013
you will not be my last
ph: Adriano Sodré
You loved me, and at first, it was an unrequited love. But once I allowed myself to, I loved you back. I became vulnerable as you forced yourself into my mind, creeping into my privacy, making my thoughts more accessible and my soul less exclusive. By doing this, you tore down my wall. I was fully open to you, making myself an easy target for heartbreak. I was scared and you knew this, but you made a promise and I trusted you. And it felt good to trust someone.
So, though I never thought I would, I let myself fall. We lived and laughed and loved together. We grew too close but enjoyed it, embraced our romantic friendship. Things changed, but we remained. The physical distance between us grew, though our love seemed stronger than ever. At least to me it did.
It came out of nowhere and within seconds I felt lower than I ever had. I was embarrassed that I was misled by you. That I, of all people, fell for it, didn’t even guess that our bond was disintegrating. You had successfully fooled me. I was so ashamed at how affected I was by you, this stranger that used to be my love. It felt as though I was suffocating and suffering from a blow to the stomach all at the same time. I thought that feeling was made up by Hollywood screenwriters who felt the need to make the portrayal of a relationship as dramatic as possible, but it was all too real: the weak, trembling knees and the need to collapse in tears and curl into a ball, trying to prevent anyone else from getting in.
The thing I feared most, the thing that I promised to my former independent, strong self had happened: my heart had been broken.
You are enjoying your life now, which on the surface kills me because I want you to regret your decision. But, deep within my core, I am glad for you. I don’t like either of these feelings. I do not want someone who deeply hurt me to have my happiness, and I especially do not want them to have my anger. I wish I merely did not care, for indifference is stronger than hatred. Anyone who is trying to figure out how to behave around a former love will most likely understand what I mean by that, that indifference is stronger.
I am no longer in love with you, yet you still have my heart. I am trying to get it back, and it’s so frustrating because you don’t even want it. Maybe what’s keeping it with you is that fact that you have a power that no other will ever possess: you were my first love.
But you will not be my last. I refuse to be forever broken. I strive to love like I’ve never been hurt, and I vow to let go of what hurts in order to make room for what feels good. I’m so sad that such a fun, simple, beautiful relationship has ended completely with no remains of a friendship whatsoever, but I must let go. It will take time, and I am prepared for that. But I must admit, I cannot wait for the day when I wake up and am able to say that I did not think of you once the day before. It is in that moment when I will consider myself healed.